


when it's dark

by KelseyO



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Nightmares, i totally wrecked myself writing laura's dialogue hope you guys are happy, post-28
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla rises to her knees now, then gently squeezes Laura’s shoulder and brushes her hair out of her face. “Laura, cupcake. You’re having a nightmare. Hey,” she whispers one last time, and Laura finally jerks awake; her gasp is violent and breathless and her fingers are tangled with Carmilla’s before she can even blink, and she’s far from pleased with the tremors she feels against her palm. “Hey, shhhhhh,” she murmurs as she brushes her thumb back and forth against Laura’s, then clenches her jaw. “Did you see her again?”</p><p>Laura’s bottom lip is quivering as she shakes her head and presses her free hand over her eyes.</p><p>Carmilla frowns and studies her carefully. “What was it?”</p><p>(Even entirely normal nightmares can suck.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	when it's dark

**Author's Note:**

> In which I was lying in my bed this morning thinking about my nanowrimo characters until I was suddenly thinking about Carmilla instead. Takes place after episode 28; title from "Last Hope" by Paramore.

It’s ironically neither the less-than-ideal temperature of the hardwood below her nor Perry’s surprisingly loud snoring that wakes her up, but rather the faint whimpers filling the air above Carmilla’s bed like sparks from a fire. She sits up before she’s even aware of a conscious desire to do so and flexes her neck to one side then the other, and now her eyes are on Laura, who’s curled into an impossibly tiny ball as she twitches away from some unseen terror much like she did the other night.

“Laura,” she whispers once, then a second time, but Laura just burrows deeper into the pillow.

“Please,” Laura mumbles, the syllable desperate and pleading, “I’m sorry…”

Carmilla rises to her knees now, then gently squeezes Laura’s shoulder and brushes her hair out of her face. “Laura, cupcake. You’re having a nightmare. Hey,” she whispers one last time, and Laura finally jerks awake; her gasp is violent and breathless and her fingers are tangled with Carmilla’s before she can even blink, and she’s far from pleased with the tremors she feels against her palm. “Hey, shhhhhh,” she murmurs as she brushes her thumb back and forth against Laura’s, then clenches her jaw. “Did you see her again?”

Laura’s bottom lip is quivering as she shakes her head and presses her free hand over her eyes.

Carmilla frowns and studies her carefully. “What was it?”

The hand drops and for the first time, Carmilla sees the tear tracks running down her temples. Laura swallows hard and sucks in a gulp of oxygen. “LaFontaine,” she croaks, then sniffs. “They were taking them away and… and they screamed for me to help them, but I think I was tied to the computer chair, and I—I couldn’t—”

A small sob cuts off the rest of her sentence and Carmilla bites her lip hard. “It was just a dream, Laura. It wasn’t real.”

“But it was,” she blurts, “it _is_. They're  _gone_ and it’s all because of—”

“Sweetheart, we talked about this,” Carmilla interrupts, her tone soft but firm, and she loathes how worked-up she’s getting as the moisture in Laura’s eyes brims over again. “ _I’m_ the evil vampire’s spawn. _I’m_ the minion of darkness. This is all on _me_.”

Laura’s lungs heave. “If I hadn’t worn that bracelet—”

“If I hadn’t _given_ you the bracelet.”

She’s silent for a beat. “If you had just let them take me,” she manages, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carmilla sighs and uses the pad of her thumb to gently wipe away a tear as it rolls down Laura’s cheek. “That wasn’t an option,” she says quietly.

Laura’s red, watery eyes meet hers, and the breath of oxygen she doesn’t need catches in her throat. “Why not?”

She knows without even trying that she won’t be able to find the words, so instead she just rolls her eyes. “Move over.”

“What?”

“Move over,” she repeats, gesturing for Laura to get closer to the wall, and it’s not until she slips in beside her and they’re suddenly very, very close that she feels how badly Laura’s shaking. “ _Cupcake_ ,” she murmurs, reaching over to cup Laura’s cheek, and she’s not quite prepared for Laura to lean into the contact and bury her face in the crook of Carmilla’s neck, or for the arm that wraps tightly around her lower back as Laura cries against her shirt.

“Shhhhhh,” she whispers again as she combs her fingertips through Laura’s hair over and over. “LaFontaine is their own person. You didn’t force them to get involved or help investigate; they did that all on their own. And I know you feel guilty, because you’re compassionate and loyal and so _profoundly_ human, but you aren’t to blame for _any_ of this.” She doesn’t get a response and sighs again, but this time it’s intentionally dramatic. “What’s it going to take for you to believe me? Should I break out those wretched puppets of yours and perform some rudimentary skit about it?”

Despite everything, she still feels a soft, muffled chuckle against her collarbone; or perhaps it’s just Laura’s tears stalling for a moment, but she thinks she’ll accept either scenario.

Laura’s breathing has calmed and Carmilla wonders if, prays that, she’s falling asleep again as her fingers continue disappearing into Laura’s hair.

“I liked dancing,” Laura mumbles, and it sounds like the words are barely making it off her tongue. “We should dance again.”

The corner of Carmilla’s mouth twitches. “We can do that, but you better get a good night’s sleep, first.”

There’s a sleepy sigh into her neck and Laura shifts just a little bit closer, then whispers “Okay.”

Carmilla’s sort of frozen, because this newest lack of distance between them has her dangerously close to putting her arm around Laura and even their waltz earlier left her wondering what the frilly hell she was doing, and now they’re sharing a bed and Laura’s been crying and she doubts that even the Silas library would have any helpful information for her at this point.

Damn it all to hell, Carmilla concludes, and she holds Laura Hollis back.


End file.
